Life's Little Lessons
by pietraserena
Summary: Eight year old Thomas Williams finds himself in a pickle when he wishes his only cousin Charlotte "Charlie" Jones away to the goblins and their King. After rejecting his right to run the Labyrinth to win her back, will a remorseful Thomas be able to win Charlotte back from the Goblin King? Words have power, and Thomas learns this lesson the hard way. (A/N: set in the present day)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**The One and Only Author's Note: **One morning I had two questions tease me from afar. First of all, what if the children of Toby and Sarah encountered the Goblin King? How would that happen and how would they deal with him? Secondly, what would happen if the wisher completely forfeited their right (or anyone else's right) to run the Labyrinth? What would the Goblin King do, or the better question, would he do anything? Could he do anything to sway or manipulate the wisher / runner into saving the wishee? As you can see, these two questions snowballed into others and led to this odd story. This isn't romance, but you will get a Jareth being Jareth (dry, witty, flirty, introspective, bored, and manipulative) as he was in the film. You will get a few other familiar faces as well. The story is set in the fall of 2013 in the same East Coast town as the original film, and that is where we will begin. – p.s. (edited 4/17/13)

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**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 1**

_Go to your Aunt's house with your cousin after school today. You'll spend the weekend with them. I'll pick you up Sunday morning. – Dad_

Scrawled in the school secretary's curly handwriting, eight year old Thomas had had to ask his teacher Miss Simpson to read it for him. She did in her soft voice, but everyone in the classroom heard. Miffed, he tore the note from her hands and trudged back to his desk. In the last half-hour of school, every student pretended to work on their homework. Miss Simpson was nice like that – giving them time at the end of each day to do a little work before heading home. Except Thomas sat at his desk sullenly, no paper out or pencil in hand. He glowered at the note. Miss Simpson let him be.

Eventually the class began to pack up their things and stare longingly at the clock. Conversations began to spring up like a brook burbling to life from an underground well. Thomas didn't bother to talk to anyone or look at the clock. For some of his classmates, the last minute crawled by, too slow for their anxious hearts to be home and outside playing. For Thomas, he wished the clock would stop so he wouldn't have to spend another night at his Aunt's under his cousin's watchful eye. The bell rang just to spite him or so he felt.

His classmates poured out of the room leaving him behind at his desk. Miss Simpson came around to crouch beside him.

"Tommy? Aren't you going?"

"Why should I?" he asked bitterly. _Here is as good as anywhere else, _he thought. "And don't call me Tommy. It's Thomas."

"I'm sorry, Thomas," she said with a smile. "Would you walk with me to the front doors? I could use the company plus it's my turn to watch the playground." She paused to give him an opportunity to respond. When the silence dragged on for far too long she cleared her throat and tried again. "Thomas, wouldn't you rather be outside than cooped up in here?"

Begrudgingly, he admitted mentally, he did want to be out of the school building and in the sunshine. Outside was better than being inside. Outside he had some freedom. He moved slowly as he packed up his bag. Miss Simpson nodded and tidied up her desk a little. Then they were walking side by side through the school halls to the entrance and the playground beyond. Miss Simpson seemed to want to say something to him, but he ignored her.

Except there would be no playground for him. Talking to his previous teacher – an older woman with a considerable amount of gray hair and an easy smile – was his cousin Charlie. Charlie was merely her nickname; anyone could see that Charlotte Jones was a pretty girl with the same eyes as her mother. Thomas's footsteps slowed as he eyed his cousin through the tinted glass of the door.

"Is that your cousin Charlie?" his teacher asked sounding slightly confused. Thomas nodded. Miss Simpson looked thoughtful for a moment before putting her hand on the door. "You're rather lucky to be so close to your cousin. Your parents must appreciate the help."

"They don't care," he stated frankly. _If they did… they'd be here instead of her_ he thought bitterly. He wasn't about to open up to this new teacher. She didn't care about him. Not really.

Miss Simpson opened the door and held it open for him. He walked through and rushed by Charlie without acknowledging her.

"Ah! You must be Miss Simpson?" asked his cousin as she turned from the teacher to her younger cousin. Charlie's hand reached out to tousle his strawberry blond hair, but he ducked away and ran. "Hey, Thomas! Wait for me! Nice to meet you, Miss Simpson! Good to see you, Mrs. Swanson!"

With that, Miss Simpson watched the young girl race after her cousin, her worn messenger bag banging against her leg. She watched the obviously feminine Charlie catch up easily to her younger cousin on her long, lean legs. The strawberry blond boy dodged a tousle to his hair again and stuck his tongue out at his smiling cousin. Yet when they came to the corner to cross the road, Thomas's hand slipped into Charlie's without question. He held on to his cousin's hand even after they had crossed the street. Mrs. Swanson soft chuckle turned Miss Simpson's attention back to the older instructor.

"Having trouble with Tommy?" the older woman asked with a sly grin. Miss Simpson nodded. The grin slipped and Mrs. Swanson sighed. "Charlotte was telling me that since her cousin's parents are divorcing, they are asking her family to pick up the slack. With growing frequency, Thomas's father has been leaving him with them on the weekends."

"Oh," replied the younger teacher. "From his files, I wondered what had changed. His grades have been slipping, and he doesn't talk to any of the other students. It's like… he's cut himself off from the world. Poor thing. The divorce must not be going well."

"Apparently not," confirmed Mrs. Swanson as she moved to watch over the playground. The younger teacher followed. They patrolled the playground and talked quietly about young Thomas (not Tommy) Williams and his cousin Charlie (Charlotte) Jones.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth , Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 2**

Together they walked hand in hand in companionable silence underneath the afternoon sun of early autumn. Fifteen year old Charlotte turned her face to its warm rays dappling through the still green trees overhead. Thomas let go of her hand, and she didn't say anything about it. She had learned it was better to keep mum about Thomas's need to hold her hand. As they walked by house after house, Thomas found a stick and swatted at the overgrown weeds in Mr. McGregor's lawn. He abandoned it after a block as Charlotte turned and led the way to the shortcut through the old park. He liked the park; it had a certain… magical quality to it. Even with half of the park gone and in development for more businesses, the abandoned park was special to him.

Thomas found his steps slowing as they crossed the tiny, creaky foot bridge. Wood slats had started to crumble and decay. He had to step over a missing slat, but before he did, he paused to stare downward. The creek bubbled merrily underfoot, unchanged and still flowing in spite of all the other changes to the park. Thomas stepped over the slat and walked off the foot bridge to walk through the overgrown grass field. In front of him, Charlotte continued to meander forward, intent on reaching home eventually. However, Thomas didn't want to leave. They passed the white gazebo with its odd light post beside the creek, and Thomas paused to stare it.

White lattice broken from animals pushing their way underneath was barely covered by the overgrown bushes. Flaking paint curled in strips on its exterior; in some places, small pieces had floated to rest on the ground to create a broken ring of white. A few boards on the floor were warped, and bird droppings from numerous nesting birds had added to its disrepair. At some point, a hole had formed in the roof, and the damage caused by a few seasons of harsh East Coast weather had been done. The white gazebo looked old to him, and he wondered if it had always looked so run down and broken.

Beside him, the odd little lamp post had suffered similar losses. A pane of glass revealed the missing bulb and degrading socket. Another spidery crack had formed on another pane. It, too, had not been repainted in ages. Thomas wondered if any birds had tried making it their home this summer. Probably not since even he could easily reach to touch it. It wasn't at a safe height for birds. He crouched down to examine the bloom of reddish brown rust accumulating in a crescent moon shape on its pole. He tilted his head to examine it better. Also, because the lamp post no longer stood straight up but at an angle.

Then he found himself moving up the gazebo stairs to kneel on the warped bench facing the small creek. He heard Charlotte's footsteps as she ascended and crossed the gazebo floor to stand beside him. They both stared at the water and the cattails on its bank gently swaying in soft puff of wind. They tried to ignore the devastation a yard or so away on the other side of the creek.

For as long as they both could remember, the creek had always wound its way through the lush park of overgrown grass. Yet Charlotte remembered a better park from her childhood, one that hadn't shrunk in size. Thomas only knew the smaller, abandoned park, and it made her a little sad and nostalgic. Ten years ago, the city's park district had given up on caring for the park. First, they made a new community center (with a view of the creek and gazebo). There were talks of making a trail through the park about five years ago, but it had yet to be done. Around the same time, the city sold the other half of the park for development due to lack of city maintenance funds. Or that's what Charlotte had heard from her parents. The neighborhood had put up a fuss, but nothing came of it.

She turned to look at what remained of the stand of massive evergreens on the east side of the park – a line of massive tree stumps. Charlotte's heart twisted remembering the majestic sentinels. A few had volunteer saplings rising from the living remains of organic matter, but she knew its futile. They would never be allowed to grow to such heights again. Instead, a line of sickly honeysuckle saplings had been planted in a vain attempt to hide the back alley of the strip mall going in where the rest of the park used to be. Only this small acre with the gazebo, lamp post, and the west line of conifers remained of the once beautiful park. Through it all, the creek continued its meandering path from pastoral to urban. Charlotte knew it was only a matter of time before even the creek would cease to be beautiful and clean. Her young heart twisted again at the sense of change and loss.

"Charlie? What's wrong?" Thomas asked quietly. Charlotte dropped her gaze to see he had to turned to look at her. She sighed.

"You probably don't remember the evergreens," she began.

"Yeah, I do," he stated with a huff. "I'm not _that _much younger than you."

"Whatever, kid. You're still little Tom Thumb to me," she teased and ruffled his hair.

"Don't DO that!" he protested. In a flash, he had smacked her hand away, covered his head, and jumped off the bench to stand in the middle of the gazebo. Charlotte grinned.

"Do what?" she said innocently. "You mean this?" She lunged and tickled his sides. Thomas glared and pushed her away again. "I think I saw a smile there…"

"I don't want to play your stupid games," he retorted and stamped his foot like a toddler. Charlotte paused and put her hands on her hips.

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do."

"NO, I DON'T!"

"Yes, you do." She grinned in triumph. Then she walked past him and skipped down the stairs… but not before ruffling his hair again in passing.

"I said don't do that!"

"Do what?" she teased again. Charlotte grinned. It was almost too easy to provoke him. She dropped her bag by the defunct lamp post. "And what are you going to do about it? You can't stop me."

Thomas easily jumped the stairs and landed where Charlotte once stood. She was already moving away from him. He shrugged off his backpack and came at her in a hot fuss.

"Too slow!" she laughed and dodged his fist as it came out swinging. "Too slow, again!

"Am not! Stop teasing me like I'm some kid! I hate you!" Lunging, he caught her off guard. She fell backward and all of the air went out of her in a whoosh.

"That's what you get!" he shouted jumping up and taking off running for the other end of the park. Charlotte lay there in the overgrown grass and stared at the clouds creeping across the azure sky. Teasing Thomas hadn't worked today. He was angrier than usual. Had something happened at school? Were the other kids teasing him? She remembered her own grade school years, and Charlotte cringed mentally. She shouldn't be so concerned, but she cared about her only cousin like he was her little brother. He had become so angry, sullen even. He had always been a little spoiled, and a tad demanding, not outright manipulative but in a subtle way. He had changed in the past six months, and maybe that is what made her tease him so much.

She heard the rustling of long grasses and his soft footsteps approaching. Eventually he stopped and his face came into view – a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, a face still soft with baby fat, a mop of strawberry blond hair, and pale blue eyes that seemed almost clear. _He would be cute if not handsome like his Dad when he grew up_, she thought mildly. His young, smooth brow furrowed with worry and concern.

"Ch-charlie?" he stammered quietly. "I-I d-didn't mean… Are you okay?"

Charlotte pondered his shift in mood, and then she sighed. Thomas only stammered when he was flustered and remorseful. She knew he hadn't meant what he said; it hurt, but that didn't make it hurt any less. A thought took her while Thomas stared at her more intently. She ran a hand over her face to conceal her mischievous grin.

"I am… but you won't be," she replied cryptically. Then she was sitting up and tickling him. The young boy protested, but eventually giggles mixed with laughing protests rang out into the air. Happy tears pricked his eyes even though he tried to keep his stubborn face in place. She gave him a fierce hug before releasing him after the tickle attack had ended and his laughter ebbed.

"We should go," she stated rising to her feet and offering him a hand up. She brushed off her jeans and then turned to pick up their school bags. Together they continued onward, kicking up bugs and grass pollen as they walked towards home.

Unbeknownst to the pair, a barn owl resting atop the gazebo took flight. Yet this was no ordinary barn owl. It had thoughts and feelings and an immense well of magic at its disposal. Riding the thermals created by the heat of the late summer sun, the owl that wasn't an owl pondered what it had seen. Something had drawn him Above Ground to view this scene; something was on the horizon that hadn't happened in several years.

When the girl had fallen and the boy had run off, he hadn't been surprised at the animosity the boy exhibited to her. What did surprise him was the boy – how he had turned, his shoulders drooping. The look on his young face – the guilt, the remorse, and underneath it all, fear – at realizing she wasn't moving, that she wasn't rising to follow him to stop him, that his actions hadn't gained him the attention the boy obviously craved. All of the stubbornness left the young boy as he hurried back to her side.

Why would this boy, who obviously cared for this older girl, wish her away? He sighed mentally. He knew why. All of the well-wishers were spoiled, ungrateful creatures. This boy was no different. _He's not too young to learn from his mistakes… but he will never survive the Labyrinth, _the owl that wasn't an owl thought to himself. _Do I dare to intervene on his behalf?_ The question galled him as he vanished from mortal sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 3**

Immediately Thomas's mood soured upon stepping foot into his Aunt and Uncle's house with Charlie. A shopping bag with his clothes sat unceremoniously on the rug in the foyer. He stared at the contents of the plain white bag – a rumpled pair of jeans, a couple of shirts thrown over a single pair of underwear, no toothbrush, no pajamas, no note for him. At least Mom left him a note with her cell phone number on it. Granted, he could never reach her when he called, but that fact Dad seemed to have no regard for him… Anger and hurt swelled inside him. No one cared about him. So, he shouldn't care about them.

He stubbornly refused to do his homework when his Uncle asked him to do it. He refused to help set the table or wash his hands before sitting down to eat. He pushed his peas around on his plate as his Aunt scolded him for not eating them. She ordered him to stay at the table until he cleared his plate. Thomas sank deeper into the wooden chair with a glower in her direction. Charlie tried to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she left the table, but he shied away from her touch. He listened to the television click on and dishes clatter in the dishwasher. He glared at the offending green orbs on his plate. He wasn't hungry. They couldn't make him eat. He pushed the plate aside and rested his head on his arms on the table. Listening to the house, the happy sounds of a home, he bitterly remembered happier moments when his family had been a family. His eyes closed and sleep caught him before he knew it. At some point, soft conversation caught his ears. He didn't move as he listened to his Aunt and Uncle talk about him.

"If he keeps this up, he'll be skin and bones by the end of the month," his uncle muttered quietly. "Doesn't your brother feed him?"

"He tries, but…" his aunt paused. "It's a rebellious phase. I went through the same thing once." She sighed. "We'll just have to let him choose what he wants to eat and not force the issue like this again."

"I'll take him up. You made up the day bed in the office, right?"

"Yeah. I laid out one of my old t-shirts for him, too. We'll see about something better for him tomorrow."

"You don't need-"

"Yes, I do. He's family. If I could… I'd do more."

"I know you would. It's why I married you."

There was the sound of a soft kiss. "Thanks again, honey."

"Anything for family," came the reply before heavy, rough hands lifted Thomas from the chair. The boy continued to feign sleep, but a lump had caught in his throat. So, he didn't eat a lot. He wasn't hungry. He didn't care about food anyway. And what if he wasn't as big or tall as the other boys his age? That wasn't his fault either. Why were they so concerned about him? Why did they care? He was just a nephew; it's not like he was their son. He wasn't part of their family… was he? At his train of thoughts, he wanted to outright sob on his Uncle's shoulder. He didn't want the strong presence to go away. He felt his Uncle climb the stairs to the second floor and carry him to the office. He felt the bigger man settle him carefully, like a fragile doll, onto the daybed opposite the desk and bookcase his Aunt used for her work. Thomas clenched his eyes shut even more.

"You're a good kid, Thomas," his Uncle said rubbing his back. He heard a soft, masculine chuckle, and he could almost see his Uncle Brian's smile underneath his beard. "If you need anything, Charlie's next door and we're down the hall. Don't hesitate to ask. There's an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom, too. I'll let you dress yourself and crawl into bed. You're a big boy."

His Uncle Brian sounded so confident in calling him that nickname. Thomas hated nicknames, those little endearments. His Mom called him Tom Thumb when he was younger; his Dad still called him Little Goblin. He hated it. His Aunt called him love, but she called everyone that. Everyone else tried to call him Tom or Tommy, but only his Uncle didn't give him a nickname. He liked his Uncle for that, but Thomas rolled over onto his side, away from the burly man. He opened his eyes slightly to stare at the back of the daybed. Anger, hunger, and humiliation roiled painfully in his empty stomach.

"Why can't you be my Dad?" he whispered into the stillness of the makeshift bedroom. It was a question he had started to ask every weekend he stayed with them.

"Because you already have one," his Uncle replied. The same answer every time he asked. It galled the young boy. He never asked this next question.

"If I did, why isn't _he_ here with me?"

The question sent his Uncle into silence. There was a heavy sigh from the brown haired man with hazel eyes. Thomas fisted the coverlet over the bed. Of course, his Uncle wouldn't have an answer for him.

"He picked up an extra shift to help pay for a few things, Thomas," his Uncle finally stated flatly. A lie, Thomas decided. Did all adults lie when pushed with questions they didn't want to answer? "He'll be here on Sunday."

Thomas bit back the bitter reply on the tip of his tongue. He doubted his father would show up on Sunday. He knew it would be like last weekend and the weekend before that – either his Mom would arrive to whisk him away and proceed to curse his father's name for the rest of the week, his grandmother would take him home and spend the night with him, or his Dad would show up at the last possible minute. Maybe no one would show up on Sunday. Thomas almost wished for it.

"He'll be here before you know it," his Uncle reiterated adamantly. Thomas shifted slightly to look up at his Uncle, almost expectantly. The older man smiled down at his nephew. The bed shifted and Thomas felt his uncle's hand behind his head and a slight pressure on his hair at his temple from a kiss good night. The daybed shifted again and his Uncle was walking towards the door.

"Things will be better in the morning. You'll see. Sweet dreams, Thomas."

Then he was gone. The dim light in the office cast the shadow of his body against the daybed's back. He listened to the sounds of the house that wasn't his home. He listened to Charlie getting ready for bed and play music softly in her room. He heard the click of her reading light turn off. Then he heard her parents climb the stairs and begin their nightly routine. Then he listened to the house grow still as the night plodded along. Thomas reached up and grabbed the pillow above his head. He hugged it fiercely as he began to silently sob.

Yet sleep still did not come to him. He extracted himself from the daybed and stumbled over to the bookshelf. He frowned. Everything sounded boring. Most were too high a level for him to read comfortably and were obviously books his Aunt used for teaching. He pulled a book out, flipped it once, and then went to put it back. He stopped seeing something in the dark depths of the back of the bookcase. Thomas removed a book to either side of the gap to investigate. There, resting out of sight, sat a little red book. Faded gold letters embossed on the cover failed to reflect the dim light in the room. Curiosity piqued, he extracted the book and examined it. It looked easy enough to read as he flipped through it. He let it rest in his lap as he put the other books back on the shelf. He grinned to himself. His Aunt would never know he had found it since she obviously wanted to keep it hidden. He would be equally careful and not let her know he had found it. He felt proud of his trickery. Then he carried his prize over and flopped onto his temporary bed. Before opening it to read, he read the cover aloud in an almost reverent whisper, "The Labyrinth."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 4**

_Thomas bounded down the stairs feeling lighter and happier than he had in months. He used the pole of the stairs to slingshot himself down the hall towards the kitchen. Yet he slowed his trajectory hearing a soft, feminine voice humming. Smiling, he crept forward to see a sight he treasured the most early Saturday mornings. With her ubiquitous mug of coffee in her hands, she leaned up against the counter. Pulled back into a messy bun, wisps of her dark hair framed her calm face. She hummed a song he didn't know, a strange little tune that sounded unreal. Morning sunlight warmed her back and gave her a strange halo of light around her head. A small smile graced her red lips as if she knew a secret that no one else did. Just then she opened her half-closed eyes and saw him staring at her from the entryway. Her smile danced in her green eyes, and he felt warm all over. He knew that smile was for him and him alone. _

"_Ah, love, did you stay up late last night reading again?" she asked drawing him into a half hug. Her warm voice held a note of amusement. He loved her for that. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he hugged her back. She chuckled at his impromptu need for affection. "You're in a cuddly mood, Thomas."_

"_I love you," Thomas murmured resting his head on her slender shoulder. He felt his cheeks grow hot at the honest admission. He felt safe, appreciated, and, well, truly loved. She didn't laugh at him; she only hugged him tighter and kissed the top of his head. _

"_I love you, too," she admitted without a moment's hesitation. _

"_Don't ever leave me."_

_She laughed and it sounded like chimes. "I would never leave you, Thomas. Now, c'mon, you can tell me about your book while we fix breakfast for those sleepy heads."_

_He gave a sound of affirmation and disentangled from her. He watched her set the coffee mug aside to begin preparations. She began to hum that strange tune again. Then something white dashed across the window over the sink. Thomas leaned over to stare out into the backyard. _

"Thomas?"

_Something wasn't right. The backyard wasn't the backyard, but a hillside overlooking a stone maze of walls. A city and castle sat upon the horizon in the distance. A figure with platinum blond hair and dressed in a black feather cape stood on the hillside. With his back to Thomas, the figure seemed to be admiring the stone maze. Thomas found himself drawn to the figure._

"Thomas?"

_With a wave of a black gloved hand, a spot in the maze shimmered and changed ever so slightly. A swirl of wind caught the figure's dark cape of feathers and tugged it aside. Thomas watched, entranced. A word lingered on the edge of the young boy's mind… the Labyrinth? And… is that the Goblin King? As if the figure had heard Thomas's thoughts, the figure stiffened and began to turn to look at him. Thomas felt fear grip him as he saw the figure's strong, masculine profile. _

"Thomas?"

Charlie's hand was gently shaking him by the shoulder. The dream slowly faded, but the man's profile and his Aunt in the kitchen stuck out in his mind.

"C'mon, sleepy head. Rise and shine," she said in a quiet but chipper voice. He swatted feebly at her, or he tried to. His arm had fallen asleep from his awkward position on the daybed. His cousin easily avoided him. "Whoa, there, tiger. Come down when you're ready, 'kay?"

Moments later, Thomas descended the stairs heavily. When he appeared in the kitchen, there was no sunlight. His Aunt didn't look like the angel from his dreams. She looked older, tired. She didn't hum or draw him into a hug. She looked old with her faint wrinkles and dark hair pulled back. Worry crept into her emerald green eyes as she took in his appearance. Still dressed in his clothes from the day before, he slumped into the empty chair. He ran a hand through his bedhead mop of hair. A yawn caught him unawares and he rubbed at the Sandman's deposit on his red-rimmed eyes.

"Here, Thomas, have a pancake," his cousin said in that chipper voice again. He glared at her and then the proffered pancake on his plate. It looked delicious. Then his cousin slathered butter on his pancake and dumped a ton of maple syrup on top. It looked disgusting. His already empty stomach curdled, and he scowled at the offending breakfast item. _Why does she always have to interfere like that? Why did she have to treat him like a child? _He scowled and refused to touch the pancake.

"I hate pancakes," he muttered slumping in the chair.

"Charlie…" his Uncle said in a warning. He didn't miss his Aunt's shake of her head. Deftly, the man took Thomas's plate with the sugary pancake. Charlie looked appropriately admonished, and she rose to fetch a clean plate for Thomas.

"Sorry," she apologized setting the dinnerware in front of him. Thomas stared at it.

"If you want, I can fix you something else," his Aunt offered politely. "What would you like, love?"

Thomas was silent. He didn't really hate pancakes; he just hated the syrup. It was too sweet. He eyed the stack of pancakes and the jar of strawberry jam on the table. He glanced at his Uncle's plates. He, too, had yet to touch the syrup one as he finished his jam one. Thomas straightened up, speared a few pancakes with his fork, and plopped them on his plate. His Uncle nudged the jam towards him without a word. His Aunt smiled warmly but hid it behind her mug of steaming coffee. She turned to ask her daughter a question, "So, what are your plans for the day, Charlotte?"

"Emma and Sophie and me." Charlie began and stopped seeing the look from her mother that Thomas didn't have to see to know Aunt Sarah gave. "Er, sorry. Emma, Sophie, and _I_ had plans to go shopping this afternoon. Homecoming is coming up quick so we wanted to try on dresses."

"You haven't been asked to the dance yet?" her father asked.

"Well, no… but we were thinking of going as a group although Emma says Billy heard from Aidan that Jack may or may not ask her to-" A buzzing sound drew Charlotte's attention, and she dropped the conversation to go retrieve her cell phone on the counter.

"No cell phone during family time," her mother admonished and Charlie sat back down. "Your friends can wait. It's not the end of the world if they have to wait for us to finish eating."

Charlie sighed. "Yes, Mother."

The conversation fluctuated from homecoming to classes to her parents' plans for the weekend. Thomas didn't mind that they ignored him for the time being. He liked listening to their family conversation. Sure, they didn't pay attention to him, but he wasn't in the mood for talking. He stuck another piece of jam laden pancake in his mouth and chewed. His thoughts drifted back to the dream and the little red book he had found last night. He hadn't gotten very far, but the book was exciting. Like one of the fairy tales his Aunt shared with him over hot chocolate last weekend. _But, _he wondered as he took another bite of pancake_, was that really the Goblin King I saw in my dream? _The shrill sound of the house phone ringing made all conversation stop. His cousin popped up expectantly.

"Hello, Jones Household," she said in a cheery tone. Her happy face drooped a little. It must not be a friend. "Yeah, sure thing." She held the phone to her mother but glanced in Thomas's direction. "It's for you."

His Aunt raised a delicate eyebrow and took the receiver. "Hello? Oh, hi." Her gaze fell on him, too. He found it irritating. Then his Aunt rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen for some privacy.

"It's my Dad, isn't it?" Thomas asked bluntly. He gave up on finishing his pancakes. Suddenly they felt like lead weights in his stomach.

"Yeah…" agreed Charlie as she checked her cell phone's text messages.

"Charlie, what did your mother say?" his Uncle said. The young woman sighed and sat back at the table. "Thank you."

"You're welcome…" she begrudgingly said. She started squirming on her chair. "It was just Sophie saying she'll pick me up at eleven."

His Uncle nodded. "And when will you be home?"

"For dinner?" she hedged. "I can text her and ask."

"Not. Now." His Uncle picked up his fork to tackle the syrupy pancake. "You will be home at 5pm and no later. Your Mother and I have something planned this evening in honor of Thomas." Uncle Brian smiled as the young boy turned to look at him. "You still like super hero movies, right?"

Thomas nodded and tried to hide his surprise. They were taking him out for a movie? But at that moment, Aunt Sarah came back into the kitchen. She had her hand over the mouth piece and she wasn't smiling.

"Thomas? Your father would like to talk to you…"

"I don't want to talk to him," he muttered. Any excitement he had a moment before left him in an instant. "I hate him."

"Now, love…"

Thomas pushed his chair back and walked out of the kitchen. Aunt Sarah didn't follow him. He heard her talk into the phone as he climbed the stairs.

"He's not feeling well. I'll have him call you later. Oh? Okay. Do you know when you'll be here on Sunday? Oh. Okay. No, no, you don't have to pay me back for tonight. It'll be a treat for him. No. Toby…" Sarah sighed. "All right. Have a good day at work. We'll see you when you get here tomorrow. Bye."

Thomas reached the top of the stairs and trudged to his temporary bedroom. He shut the door and stared at Aunt Sarah's cruddy concert t-shirt from some '90s band on the bed. He shrugged out of his clothes, threw on the shirt, and crawled under the covers with the intent to sleep the day away. The shirt felt clean and smelled vaguely of her. No one would miss him; no one cared… least of all his Dad. He listened to Charlie play music in her room and get ready to join her friends. He fingered the cover of the little red book by his head on the pillow. A soft patter of rain on the window joined the sounds of the house that wasn't his home. He heard Charlie's cry of dismay in the next room. Slowly, he breathed in deep and closed his eyes to rest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 5**

Sarah tapped her finger on the counter impatiently. The rainy day had proved more troublesome than she had planned. No, it wasn't the rain… It was Thomas's behavior. Since waking up from his nap, the boy had become a terror. At every turn, he attempted to coerce or manipulate them into doing what he wanted. Then he would change his mind or pitch a fuss if you didn't do as he said. When they attempted to discipline him, Thomas threw a temper tantrum. That had earned him two time outs sitting in a kitchen chair and staring at the oven timer plus a third facing the corner. Her well of patience was nearly dry. At that moment, Brian trudged into the kitchen having given up control of the television to the mercurial boy.

"Did you slip him something this morning?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

"No, but maybe I should have," she replied and sighed. She started to rub at her temples to dispel her headache, but her husband was in front of her, gently removing her hands. His calloused hands began to massage her temple, and she let a lazy smile creep onto her face. After a moment, the direction of her lips reversed. "I don't want to reward his bad behavior today."

"You planned this outing yesterday," he pointed out. "And I already told him we'd be doing something in his honor tonight."

"He wasn't like this last week…" Her brow furrowed in consternation prettily.

"True." Brian's burly arms wrapped around his wife and he nuzzled her jawline with his beard. She shuddered and smiled wistfully as Brian whispered in her ear. "He needs the attention. We can give him that."

"I'll give him a spanking if he doesn't straighten up tonight," Sarah whispered back in a threatening tone. "Better yet, I should give Toby and Anna a piece of my mind. It's unfair to him and they are taking advantage of us. They need to grow up and be parents to their son." She sighed. "I heard a saying once. You can pick and choose your friends, but you can't pick and choose your family."

Brian unwrapped himself from his wife and held her by the shoulders. They stared at each other for a moment. The years had aged them both, but they were happy years filled with laughter and love. Sarah loved how his reddish hairs in his beard were turning white. Touches of gray were creeping into his hairline as well to give him a more dignified appearance. The small wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled fit him so well. They were aging gracefully, and she was happy that she was going to share her twilight years with this secure, confidant man. She smiled knowing Brian was assessing her as well and found her perfect despite her faults. Finally he spoke, "Then let's be there for Thomas."

"Even if he keeps resenting us and what we have?" she asked sadly. "When my parents divorced, it was quick but painful. Not a dragged out mess like this. At fifteen, I could take care of myself-"

"That's not the story I heard from your Dad…"

"Oh, hush, love. So I was a spoiled daydreamer. I grew out of it eventually," she scolded playfully. She was still a dreamer, but Sarah had found the means to channel it through her part time theater work and full time teaching. It was how she met Brian – backstage during a college production of _The Glass Menagerie._ He had been a stagehand; she had been Laura. He studied business and hoped to run several successful businesses; she studied education and minored in English literature with the hope of being a teacher and acting part time. All it had taken was one date, and the rest was history.

"But Thomas isn't seeking out relief. He is becoming a small tyrant – a withdrawn, morose eight year old Machiavellian prince. He has no one to talk to… nowhere to escape this harsh reality."

"He has us, Sarah," Brian retorted firmly and confidently. Before he could say more, a roll of thunder punctuated the moment, and the back door swung open. Charlie bounded into the kitchen with a dripping wet raincoat and a few bags of mercantile goods. She leaned out the door and waved at her friends. Brian tried to frown but had to chuckle at his daughter. "In or out, dear. You're flooding the kitchen."

"Sorry, Da!" she apologized shutting the door and slipping out of her wet things. Sarah glanced at the clock. "So, when are we leaving for dinner and the movie? Where's Thomas?" She paused seeing the intimate embrace of her parents and she wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Were you making out in the kitchen?"

"This _is_ our home, love," Sarah said with a wink. Charlie scrunched her face at the thought of her parents doing more than making out in the kitchen.

"I don't even want to know."

"You did ask," her Dad replied happily. "And we are leaving at 5:30. So, go get cleaned up and put your things away. Thomas is in the front living room."

With that, the young woman made her way not upstairs but to the living room to tease her cousin. Brian and Sarah listened to the two voices – one sullen and the other chipper. They grew quiet before Thomas's outburst and Charlie's laughter. He chased her up the stairs in order to retaliate against whatever she had done. A door slammed. There was more yelling and laughing. Then Thomas stubbornly thumped down the stairs. He entered the kitchen and his eyes grew wide seeing his relatives. Embarassed, he blushed and turned to walk back to the living room.

"C'mere, love."

His Aunt's soft voice made him look back over his shoulder. She gave him that smile with her arm stretched out to greet him. His Uncle looked on with a grin and his own hand outstretched to draw him into their embrace. Thomas's heart ached and he didn't really know why. He hated them for that moment; he loved them for it. It reminded him of when he was little and been squished between his parents. He _wanted_ that feeling again…

Then the telephone rang. Sarah gave a quizzical look to Brian who moved and answered the phone before Charlie could.

"Hello, Jones household. This is Brian speaking," he said. Thomas watched the burly man's eyes grow wide and he looked at Sarah. She tilted her head to the side and mouthed "What is it?" Brian shook his head and made a gesture as if he needed a pen and paper. Sarah searched frantically, produced both, and handed them to her husband as he continued to make non-committal sounds.

"Yes. Uh huh. No. Yes. Yes. Can you give me the address? Uh huh. Thanks. We'll be there as soon as we can. Thanks for calling us and letting us know."

Brian hung up the phone and looked stricken. His gaze fell first on Thomas then on Sarah. He tried to calm his nerves. "Toby had an accident at work. A bad one. That was his manager."

"I'll tell Charlie and then get our coats and shoes," she stated already moving. Brian folded the scrap of paper and tucked it into his back pocket with his wallet.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Thomas asked suddenly drawing the man's attention to him. "Weren't we going out tonight?"

"We were, Thomas, but we need to get to the hospital to see your Dad," explained Brian. The man's large hands landed on his thin shoulders. "We'll have to postpone tonight's activities until next time."

Thomas was silent for a time as he hung his head. His Uncle squeezed his shoulders.

"Buck up, Thomas. Charlie will be here to watch you. We won't know all the details until we get there, and I'm sure your Dad will pull through."

"I hate him," he whispered. "He always does this. He always ruins my fun. I hate him."

"Hate's a strong word, young man. You don't truly hate your father, do you?"

Thomas fell silent again and tried to blink back the tears. It just wasn't fair. It was never fair. Whenever something good happened, when he started to feel like the world was turning around, his Dad would have to go and leave… or in this instance, probably do something stupid and get hurt.

"Take me with you," he said suddenly and stared up at his Uncle Brian. The man shook his head and looked sad for a moment.

"I… If it's as bad as the manager said, I don't want you to see him like this. Not until we know the whole story," Brian stated. "Until then, have faith that he's okay and that the doctors can work some magic."

"There is no such thing as magic," Thomas bite out angrily. "He deserves to get hurt. Mom would agree. He deserves everything that comes to him!"

Sarah stood in the hallway with her rain slicker and Brian's jacket. Charlie stood on the stairs. She looked up at her daughter and she saw her pain reflected in those similar green eyes. They had heard Thomas's outburst.

"Good luck tonight. We'll call when we know more," she stated quietly.

"I hope he's okay," Charlie replied. She didn't specify who she hoped was okay.

"So do I," Sarah responded and moved into the kitchen. She handed Brian his coat and looked darkly at Thomas. "You should watch what you say, love. Words have power, and hate is a strong word."

"I don't care what you say!" shouted Thomas bitterly. His voice dropped again as he clenched his fists. "I hate him. I hope he dies."

Sarah grew still. "You will regret those words, Thomas."

Something crackled in the air as if they had their own power. Thomas glared at his Aunt before turning on his heel to watch television in the living room. With that standoff over, Sarah and Brian exited the house to rush to the garage. Charlie waved a feeble good bye and swallowed hard. She prayed Uncle Toby would be all right. She wished Thomas would behave. She hoped her parents would return soon with good news. Yet as much as she hoped and wished and prayed, she did not dare speak the words aloud. She glanced at the clock and decided she would try her hand at fixing something for dinner. She would give Thomas time to stew and simmer his hate away. She listened to the faint roll of thunder announcing the approaching storm that stretched across the quiet suburbs. She failed to see the glittering eyes watching her through the window or hear their quiet whispers in the darkened corners of the hallway.

"I win again, Little Goblin," she announced happily.

"I hate this game," he grumbled and threw the controller away from him. "I don't want to play this game anymore."

"I can't let you cheat and win every time, y'know," Charlie retorted as she attempted to retrieve the controller without getting up for it. "What do you want to play instead, Tom Thumb?"

"Stop calling me that," he snapped. "I hate those nicknames."

"You used to love being called Tom Thumb and Little Goblin," she replied waggling her fingers at him. "And you're acting like a goblin now. Probably worse than those mischief makers."

"I am NOT worse than a goblin!" he shouted and stamped his foot. "Stop teasing me!"

"But it's fun and you like the attention," she countered with a sly grin like a Cheshire cat. Thomas huffed through his nose and crossed his arms. He barely heard her mutterings but he did. "Maybe I should start calling you the little spoiled, Goblin Prince."

"I am NOT spoiled," he growled at her and rose to his feet. He kicked her lightly with his stocking foot. Not hard, but enough to vent his anger again. She turned to look at him but he was already moving towards the couch to flop onto it. He pushed the buttons and the television input switched from the video game to the live cable feed. He flipped through channels until he found something bloody and violent.

"You shouldn't watch that. It's not appropriate for a kid your age," his cousin admonished gently.

"My Mom lets me watch this kind of stuff all the time."

"Yeah, right, and I'm the Queen of Sheba."

He had no idea who the Queen of Sheba was, but he assumed she was an idiot like his cousin. Why did she irritate him so? Her hand came forward to retrieve the remote control from him, but he glared at her and moved it away.

"Give it up, Goblin Prince. We'll find something else to watch." He jerked the remote control away again and buried it between the armrest and the cushion.

"No." She dug into the tight space, but Thomas pulled on her wrist painfully to stop her.

"Thomas." Her voice held that superior, adult warning, but he didn't care.

"Get away from me!" He grabbed the remote control. His arm and hand came out swinging. The remote control made contact with Charlie's nose. She winced, lost her balance, and fell backward. Thomas watched in horror as she fell and whacked her head on the edge of the wood coffee table they had pushed aside earlier. The horror quickly abated as he grew spiteful.

"You deserved that!" he yelled at his stunned cousin. "You're just like everyone else! You just don't understand! I can't do anything that I want to do!"

"Thomas…" she said weakly from the carpet. She winced as she sat up and rubbed the back of her head.

"All you ever do is tease me. You don't care about me. If you did, you would be nice to me," he seethed. He watched as Charlie rose to her feet and stumbled a little. She adjusted her feet and rubbed her head again.

"Apologize," she said calmly. Some of the wind went out of Thomas's sails, but then his anger peeked.

"I'm not apologizing to you," he retorted sharply.

"Apologize for hitting me or you can spend the rest of the night in your room…" she ordered again. Her hand came out to ruffle his hair and a small smile touched her lips. "I know you didn't mean it, Goblin Prince, but it did hurt."

Anger swelled in his chest as he popped up off the couch. He smacked her hand away and his other hand came as a fist into her stomach. Charlie gasped and glared at him.

"I hate you! You always treat me like a child!"

"'Cause you are!" Charlie shouted back. She had finally broke, and annoyance was plain on her face. Frustration dripped from her words. "Just grow UP and apologize, you spoiled, little brat!"

Thomas stilled but the anger boiled over. He would show her. He would show them all. And with that thought, he was bounding up the stairs. Not even a moment later, the door to the office slammed with enough force to shake through the walls of the house.

Charlie sighed and rubbed her stomach. His fist hadn't hurt that much. Comparatively, the blow to her nose and her head still smarted. She glared in the office's general direction, but she couldn't hold it for long. _He's just a kid. He's under a lot of stress. He isn't mad at me. He just feels powerless, _she thought. The phrases had become almost a mantra that evening. Earlier, she had asked her friend Emma what to do about Thomas since Emma had dealt with the same thing. Her advice helped more than her mother's advice on the matter. Somewhat. Emma had talked about how powerless she felt, how out of control the whole situation was for her. She had found solace in dancing and school. The same couldn't be said for Thomas. He had no hobbies. He was alone and hurt.

A flash of lightning quickly followed by thunder made her jump. _The thunderstorm is so close! _she thought. _I hope we don't lose power tonight. _She glanced back upstairs. _Maybe he's cooled off by now._ Climbing the stairs, she noticed the lights flicker once. She wondered if she should gather up candles and matches just in case. She glanced at the clock in the hallway downstairs. It was quarter past nine. Her parents had left a little after 5pm. _How much longer were they going to be? _she wondered. _If I can't get Thomas calmed down, we're going to have an even worse fight in trying to get him to turn in. Maybe… I should just let him watch what he wants, pop some popcorn, and dig out Dad's secret stash of chocolate. Thomas likes chocolate and something sweet might make him less of a goblin. _

Charlie found herself in front of the door to her Mom's office and Thomas's temporary refuge. She raised her hand and gently rapped on the door three times. She waited and mustered her most calm tone of voice.

"Thomas, it's me. I'm sorry I yelled at you. Won't you please come out and talk to me?" She paused and waited a few heartbeats. She thought she heard a rustling of sheets, but she wasn't sure. "Or you don't have to talk to me out here. Or you can stay in there and talk through the door. I don't mind." She paused again but heard nothing. "I'm sorry I keep calling you nicknames. I know you hate them. I just like teasing you. That's all."

The silence drew itself out into a thin, twisted thread. She changed tactics.

"Thomas, I know you're angry and hurt, but I'm not a mind reader," she pleaded. "Just talk to me. You can trust me, y'know? I won't tell your parents or mine, I promise. Just… can you please talk to me?" She didn't get an answer again. She sighed, an audible admission of defeat.

"I'll be downstairs if you want to join me," she stated a little despondently. _So much for calling a truce._

Just as she stepped foot onto the carpeted stairs, the door to the office flew open. Thomas stepped out and glared at her over the railing. Charlie looked over her should and smiled at him expecting him to sullenly join her in the living room. It didn't change his stubborn mind. He didn't believe in magic, but if words had power, he believed in that moment.

"I wish the goblins would come and take you away to the Goblin King," he stated in an imperious tone of voice. He expected the house to shake, a figure to appear, something… but nothing happened. Thomas looked around expectantly. Charlie raised eyebrow.

"Goblin King?" she asked genuinely curious. She turned around and leaned on the banister to look at her cousin. She noticed in Thomas's hand a red book that looked vaguely familiar. In turn, Thomas glared at her and tucked the book into his back pocket of his pants. It barely fit. A knowing smile crept across her face. "Oh. I see. I used to believe-"

Her words were cut off by a great boom of thunder as lightning struck nearby. The lights in the house brightened as power surged through the system; then they were plunged into darkness. Not even the streetlights outside shone through the windows. The air seemed to crackle with energy as more thunder rolled through the silence. In the darkness, Charlie and Thomas looked around frantically. Charlie rubbed at her bare arms in a vain attempt to get her hair to lay back down.

"I'll see if there are candles and matches in the kitchen," she stated in a quiet voice. Already she was down the stairs, familiar with her home even in the darkness. Thomas realized his grip on the banister was painful and he let go. In the semi-darkness, he made out the top of Charlie's head moving down the hallway to the kitchen. Slowly he moved to go downstairs as the thunder ceased to extend across the sky in all directions. A sense of unease, of something not quite right, gripped him with each step. He didn't hear her rummaging in the kitchen. When did the soft pad of her feet end? He reached the bottom of the stairs and paused.

"Charlie?" he called out uneasily. There was no answer. Gingerly making his way, Thomas went down step by slow step. A hushed sound of voices and laughter made him pause. He looked around frantically, but the voices were gone. _Maybe she didn't hear me? _he thought. "Charlie?"

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, that strange hushed sound of voices and laughter caught his ear again. _I must be imagining it_, he thought. It made him feel nervous. A second crash of lightning and thunder struck close to him and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The laughter became audible, and it seemed to be coming from the living room.

Thomas looked inside and froze at the sight. In the living room, everything was normal… except for a tall, shadowy figure standing in the center of the room. Another flash of lightning bathed the room in light for a second, and Thomas thought he saw a thin, blond haired man dressed in black leather with a ebony feathered cape smiling smugly at him. Thomas rubbed at his eyes, but the afterimage of the man played on his retinas in dazzling colors.

"Hello, young man. I am the Goblin King," a masculine, accented voice said in greeting from the darkness. Goblin voices, maniacal in their laughter, filled the air, and Thomas shivered in fear.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 6.**

"H-how did you get in here?" Thomas asked backing away from the strange man. He looked over his shoulder. "Charlie? Charlie?! Where are you?"

"Oh, she's quite all right at the moment," the man stated nonchalantly. Thomas ignored him and made his way to the kitchen. His toe bumped into a candle stub and he smelled sulfur from a freshly struck match.

"Where is she?" Thomas asked rushing back to the living room and the man who seemed mildly amused. "What did you do?"

The man scoffed and he said in an innocent tone, "What did I do?" Laughter and chuckles bounced off the walls in the hallway and living room. Thomas turned around and around noticing the beady eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. He made out short shapes, fat ones, curvy ones, tall ones, and lanky ones, but they were all shorter than him. What were they?

"Why, I simply did what you asked of me," the man continued. "For I _am_ the Goblin King."

"This isn't real," Thomas scoffed and rubbed his eyes. "I'm just dreaming… or this is some stupid prank by Uncle Brian and you're just an actor." He pointed an accusing finger at the strange man who seemed to be glowing in the darkness. "Where's Charlie?"

"My dear boy, I am very real, I am not an actor, and you are certainly not dreaming," replied the Goblin King in a serious tone of voice. "What's said is said. This Charlie is now mine and will become a goblin in due time. If you wish to have her back, you must first prove yourself."

Thomas felt the brush of something against the back of his leg. He turned and found nothing; mocking laughter filled the air again.

"Or you can go back to your mundane life. Move on. Forget about Charlie," the Goblin King commanded. He twisted his wrist and produced a crystal. "Here. I have a gift for you."

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"It's an extraordinary gift for a young man such as yourself. It houses all of your dreams – a happy life where no one will tell you what to do, a life of contentment where your family is made whole again, a good life where you can have all that you want." He manipulated the crystal for a time and then presented it to Thomas. "Take it and forget about Charlie."

"I-I-I," the boy stammered taking a step back. His eyes were glued on the crystal. The Goblin King smiled knowingly.

"Or you can deny me and keep your miserable life," he stated taking a step closer. "All you have to do is take it."

"N-no," stammered Thomas. His eyes finally moved away from the crystal to the Goblin King's sculpted face. The strange man smiled and the crystal shifted into a spider. He threw it at the boy who threw up his hands to bat it away. Instead, feathers fell to the floor along with the boy. He fell hard and the chorus of goblin laughter rose again. Thomas grimaced and glared in the direction of the nearest goblin. "Stop laughing at me!"

The Goblin King scowled. "I will not tolerate others commanding my goblins." He waved his hand and the laughter stopped.

"Impertinent child, you don't seem to realize what you have done," he said in a dark tone of voice. "You said the words. The girl is mine, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"You can't have her," he replied hotly. "And I'm not impert-, impertin-. Whatever that word was. Give her back to me. Now."

The Goblin King stiffened ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed to slits. He crossed his arms and strode forward to loom over Thomas. "You have no power over me, boy," he continued in that dark tone. "What makes you think I'll simply give her up?"

Thomas lifted his chin in a defiant manner. "Give her back to me, Goblin King."

"Hun. Such a stubborn, impertinent, spoiled young man you are," he stated walking past him. Thomas turned and saw a new landscape – the hillside overlooking the Labyrinth, the one he had seen in his dreams.

"Th-this isn't real," he stammered again. He twirled around and found that his relative's house had disappeared. A smug expression rested on the Goblin King. In the full sunlight of this other world, Thomas finally saw the true appearance this fearsome monarch. Dressed in black regalia of leather and fine cloth, the Goblin King's blond hair stood out in stark contrast. Wind whipped the cloak of patches around in the wind, and the Goblin King looked like… a rockstar King in Thomas's eyes. In a breathy voice of awe, he finally had to admit, "You really are the Goblin King."

The statement drew a predatory smile from the strange man. Thomas suppressed another shiver.

"Good lad," the Goblin King said. "However, the deal has yet to be struck. You willingly wished Charlie away to me, and I cannot simply give her back to you without nothing in return. What do you propose to do?"

Thomas stared at the man and then turned to look at the Labyrinth. Did he dare to risk his life for Charlie? Should he run the Labyrinth? He touched his back pocket where the book rested awkwardly. He couldn't remember when he had slipped it back there, but he had. Touching it did not reassure him.

He felt scared. He knew he couldn't make it like the heroine in the book had. He hadn't finished the book, but fairy tales always had a happy ending. Plus he was eight years old. He wasn't smart enough (or so he told himself). He wanted to save Charlie by running the Labyrinth, but he was still mad at her, still mad at himself. His hand moved away from the book and clenched into a fist.

"Time is short, boy." Jareth smirked as he eyed the little red book in the boy's pocket. Knowing it was there would come in handy.

"It's not fair," he breathed. "I don't want to run this Labyrinth. I can't. I don't have powers or friends like that girl in the book! I'll die…" He paused. "Why do I have to do it? It was all her fault anyway. She's always teasing me and calling me names…" _And hugging me and making me feel safe and being there for me when Dad isn't_, he continued in his head. _Aunt Sarah and Uncle Brian would never forgive me. Would they even like me anymore? _Tears began to prick at his eyes and one trailed down his cheek. "I want Charlie back. Now."

Impatiently, the Goblin King considered the young man and his words. He forfeited his right to run the Labyrinth to save this girl… but he wanted her back. He obviously wasn't happy with her, but no runner was ever truly remorseful. Then again… The Goblin King took a few steps closer to the boy and saw the trail of a single tear down his freckled cheek. The boy turned, glared at him with his clear blue eyes and wiped the offending sign of remorse away.

"What's said is said. I cannot give her back unless you succeed in completing my maze. Those are the rules and I cannot change them simply because you demand it of me," the Goblin King stated in a tone of mock regret. "You must choose - do you forfeit your right to save her and condemn her to being a goblin forever or do you dare to risk your life for her's by running my Labyrinth?"

He watched the boy struggle with himself. Adults were easier to handle in this situation. They immediately wished to set things straight; their guilt drove them to save the children they had wished away in a moment of thoughtlessness. Even Sarah had been easier to form a contract with on that night so many years ago. She, too, had realized her breach of duty to her family and stubbornly won through pure grit and determination. Yet here he had a first – a young boy wishing away a young woman. A young boy, still in his childhood, who was unsure about his morals and uncertain about the harsh world he lived in. Inwardly, he sighed and made an odd gesture behind the boy's back. A little insurance for later would buy him time in case the boy did decide to run the Labyrinth... or complete another trial.

"Can I at least see her?" Thomas asked looking up at the Goblin King. The pleading look he gave the man made the Goblin King uneasy for his deceit. He had to be firm in this; he had no other choice. "I… I want to talk to her. Please."

The Goblin King shook his head. Even considering the idea of offering such a plea… He must be going mad. He wanted to grant his request, but the matter at hand could not be avoided. "I need a decision from you first."

Thomas looked at his feet. Why did he have to wish Charlie away? He loved Charlie. If he could only talk to her, they could figure out a way out of this mess together. Charlie would surely know… but he had to make the decision for both of them now. He felt so utterly guilty as he swallowed and his throat went dry.

"I forfeit," he said quietly.

"Very well. I feel generous today so I shall take you to her and you can say your good-byes," the Goblin King replied with a nod. He did not feel good about this triumph, but he had no other choice. With a thought, he brought the young boy to his throne room where the girl sat among his goblins. The mischievous creatures were peering up at her curiously. She lifted her green-eyed gaze that was and wasn't quite familiar to the pair. Her face lit up with excitement and relief. The dark-haired girl held out her arms to the boy and he ran to her. They both failed to notice the stunned expression on the Goblin King's face. A name had come to his mind upon seeing the girl in the light of day, one that still haunted his dreams and broken heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 7**

"Thomas! I was so worried about you!" she cried hugging him fiercely in the middle of the throne room. She had hopped up from her seat sending goblins scattering for the shadows and their chickens. Tears of joy and not despair streamed down her face this time. She disentangled Thomas from her and held his face in her hands. She searched his wide eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Y-you were worried about me?" he asked in a tremulous voice. _She's all right! She's fine! _he thought happily.

"Of course!" she said with a choked laugh. "Uncle Toby would have had my hide if I let anything bad happen to you! Not to mention Mom would disown me for losing her favorite nephew to the Goblin King."

"Dad doesn't care about me." The words came unbidden. Thomas couldn't stop himself. He looked away from his cousin. Her hands let him go to rest on his shoulders. "He doesn't come to my ball games. He doesn't care about my grades. He doesn't even talk to me. All he does is go out and work and buys me things I don't even like."

"Oh, Thomas," Charlie said gently as she took him in her arms again. He began to truly cry then.

"Why can't you take care of me? Why can't Aunt Sarah and Uncle Brian?" he sobbed into her chest. "I want to live with you three. Don't make me go back. I hate it there. I hate them."

She cooed and rubbed his back as the words became just odd noises. Then her hand crept up and she smoothed the hairs on his head. He had needed this comfort, this undivided attention. He had wanted this for so long. Her hand was warm and heavy as she stroked his hair. He nestled into his chest, and she didn't balk at the tears mixing with the snot on her t-shirt. He whimpered and tried to keep his eyes shut. Then a soft, polite cough turned both of their attentions to the man now sitting upon the throne.

"Oh yeah…" Thomas said in a tight voice from too much crying. He looked with red eyes from the Goblin King back to Charlie. "I'm sorry I wished you away to the Goblin King. I didn't mean it."

He watched his cousin as she stared at the figure on the throne. She looked… scared. Slowly Charlie let him go and carefully put herself between him and the Goblin King. She took hold of Thomas's hand to keep him close. Obediently, he let her while he rubbed at his eyes. Lifting her chin, she stood defiantly, and the words she said shocked him a little.

"You can't have him."

"My dear, he wished _you_ away to me. You are the one in dire straits," the Goblin King stated flatly. A titter of laughter echoed against the walls. Thomas looked around and wondered what the glimmering beads of light were for a hazy moment. Then he realized they were the shining eyes of goblins hidden in the shadows. "And he refused to run the Labyrinth in order to see that you were indeed safe here."

Thomas saw the Goblin King smile wickedly and he glanced up at Charlie. She looked pale.

"But this is a rather unconventional situation," the man stated as if he hadn't paused. Rising from his throne, he sauntered casually over to them. "Am I to believe that I have in my midst the daughter of one Sarah Williams and the son of Toby Williams?"

"Y-yes," Charlie replied automatically. She seemed a tad surprised and Thomas wondered why that would be. The tittering carried before dying away again. Charlie acted as if she hadn't noticed. "I'm Charlotte Jones, and this is Thomas Williams." Her chin lifted a little higher. "And… You are the King of the Goblins."

"Very astute, young lady," he replied dryly. Before he could speak, the young boy who seemed genuinely awed that his cousin knew the Goblin King, interjected with a question, "How do you know him, Charlie?"

"Mom – your Aunt Sarah – used to tell me a bed time story," she began to explain.

"Oh, it was no bed time story, precious," the Goblin King interjected. His elbow came to rest on his hand while he tapped his cheek with a gloved finger. His mismatched eyes never left the pair, and they began to make Thomas feel uneasy. "Years ago, your mother wished away her baby brother to me."

"And she beat you."

Charlie's frank words visibly stung the Goblin King for a moment, but he replaced his surprise with that same unnerving air of confidence and amusement.

"Did she?"

It was Charlie's turn to be stunned silent. Her face blanched, but then grew red as a myriad of feelings washed over her. Her chin lifted a little higher.

"She did. She won Toby back. He didn't become a goblin, and they were free to go home. You lost."

"Yet here I have her daughter and her nephew," the Goblin King replied pointing at each in turn. Another wave of laughter fell upon the empty hall. Charlie shifted in her stance and her grip tightened on Thomas. The Lord of the Labyrinth and ruler of the Goblin Kingdom took a step closer to the pair. "Now what am I to do with you two?"

"Y-you don't…" Charlie stammered as she tried to back away but couldn't since Thomas refused to move. Then she did something Thomas had never known she could do. She swore. "Shit. What are the words?"

"Words?" Thomas asked from behind her.

"From the story. Mom's story always had the heroine saying these words to the Goblin King that freed her. It's how she won."

With each careful step around the pair, his boot heels clicked on the stones of the throne room. He assessed them and wondered if his flimsy idea of a plan would work. Jareth smirked as he watched Thomas blink and pull the worn red book from his back pants pocket. The boy flipped to the end of the slim volume with eagerness. The realization that he could save them was palatable to the Goblin King. Charlie glanced at the Goblin King who now stood still before his throne and then down at her cousin with curiosity.

"What's that?"

"It's the book! Aunt Sarah's story! The words are-" He gasped in alarm. "What happened?!" The last few pages – the ones with the words and the conclusion of the tale – had been ripped out of the book.

A rustle drew their attention back to the ruler of the Labyrinth. In-between his fore and middle fingers he waved the missing pages in front of them. The smug smirk of satisfaction and triumph grew.

"Give those back!" shouted Thomas and he dropped the book to lunge at the Goblin King. The raucous laughter that had been growing in the throne room dropped to sudden silence. Charlie glanced to her left and right feeling the hair on the back her neck stand up. The air had changed from amused to menacing.

"Why? You forfeited your beloved cousin's life… to me," the King retorted. Tauntingly, the taller Jareth waved the pages over Thomas's head, just out of reach. He jumped frantically trying to get the pages until he resorted to pulling on the Goblin King's arm. Charlie's teasing finally paid off for once. Jareth scoffed and then laughed as he twisted his wrist and the pages disappeared. Thomas's face fell and he let go of the king's person. The menacing air to the room began to ease away.

"Thomas?" called Charlie and he turned back to her. Charlotte's green eyes, so much like Aunt Sarah's, searched his and he noticed that her hands trembled ever so slightly. "You… you refused to save me?" The tremble spread and she tried to hug herself to make it stop. Her next words pricked his heart. "You really hate me that much?"

"N-no! I d-d-don't hate you!" He rushed back over to her, but she held up a hand to stop him. She looked away from him, and he saw fresh tears trail down her smooth cheeks.

"I know you don't… but how could you, Thomas?" she whispered. She couldn't look at him. "Without the words… With you not running the Labyrinth to save me…" Instead she stared past him to Jareth. "How long do I have before you turn me into a goblin?"

"Ch-charlie, you c-can't! We- we can fight him! I'm sorry. Please," protested Thomas before the Goblin King even opened his mouth to speak, but the boy quieted at a sharp look from his cousin. His hope of having Charlie figure a way out of this mess fizzled and died.

"This isn't like our world, Thomas. Words have power here, and he heard you. Your refusal to act, just like in our world, has a consequence, and that consequence… is that you've forfeited my life without my asking or wish," she said sternly. She seemed to gain some courage again. An edge of anger carried on her voice. "I will have to remain here, and you and everyone else will forget me because you didn't think, Thomas. In so many hours, I won't be in your life anymore."

"T-that c-can't be true… Y-y-you'll be there. You're always there for me." He pushed her hand aside and threw his arms around her waist again. "You can't leave me! You can't! I won't let him have you!"

"It's too late," she replied letting her hands fall on his shoulders. "What has been said cannot be unsaid."

"I'm sorry! You can't go. I won't let you become a goblin. Please. I don't want to forget you."

"What's done is done." Only then did Charlie's steady hand reach up to smooth his hair and offer him comfort again in so many minutes. Yet the boy had cried himself out. No tears came this time.

The Goblin King watched silently as the drama continued to play out before him. How different the children of Toby and Sarah were. How different this story played out from the last time he had had the Williams children in his clutches. To hear his words come out of the mouth of Sarah's daughter gave him a sense of pride. He had taught Sarah Williams a valuable lesson that she had instilled in her offspring. She had remembered him, _their_ story. This girl _knew_ him... or at least about him. But why had Sarah not taught her nephew the value of words? The consequences of action and inaction? Sarah could have prevented this whole scenario for him. Inwardly he sighed. He was being petty by laying the blame at Sarah's feet. This scenario was Thomas's fault and his alone.

Yet a part of him felt bitter. He had moved the stars, he had done everything for Sarah Williams… and she had turned him aside. She had moved on. She had married. She had had a child. Had he moved on? The thought of Sarah ached in his chest. The love she spurned still burned there albeit dimly. Now, in his throne room, here before him was her daughter. She was living proof of what could have been with him and of what Sarah had found without him. How different the young girl – no, young woman - was from her mother at this age. Not only physically, but also in her maturity. She wasn't _his _Sarah. She was the byproduct of the stubborn and spoiled girl who had changed and grown up… thanks to him and his Labyrinth… and some other man, one that Sarah had come to love.

For Jareth, the years were merely a morning dew drop crawling slowly down on tulip leaf. For Sarah and other mortals, they did not have time to wait, to weigh the consequences of love given and taken. Before him was the proof of both Sarah and Toby's maturity (or in the latter case, the lack thereof). Questions nagged at him. Had he truly moved on from Sarah? Did he really want to? Did he really… Had he really wanted such a life with the young Williams girl so many years ago?

With his chin resting in his elegant hand, the Goblin King let his imperious gaze drift from the boy to the girl and back again. Too many questions plagued his mind, and Jareth frowned behind his gloved fingers. He continued to patiently watch the children of Sarah and Toby while he thought of what to do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 8**

"Please," came the piteous voice of Thomas to Jareth's ears. "You can't let him take you away." Thomas hiccupped at the end, which gained himself another quiet, maternal gesture from his cousin.

"I have no say in this matter. It's up to him whether or not he wants to spare me," she said quietly. She sighed a little and pushed Thomas away again with her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her with red rimmed eyes and a drippy nose. "Just… promise me two things, Thomas."

The boy nodded vigorously until her hand under his chin stilled his action. The corner of her pink lips twitched upward slightly. "Promise me you won't ever speak ill of someone without thinking first about the consequences."

"I didn't mean it."

"I know. I know you didn't. You never do. You have learned your lesson, and you won't ever forget," she reassured. "But do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Cross your heart and hope to die? Stick a needle in your eye?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Now." The girl swallowed and seemed to fight herself for a moment. "Promise me… promise me that you'll talk to Mom for me. You know, she had to deal with the same thing – grandpa's divorce and all that. Promise me you'll confide in her. She-she'll help you to cope. She loves you, too. Don't ever forget that."

"I promise." The boy sniffled and he pulled back a little. He tried to whisper, but his throat was raw. Jareth could hear every word as he pretended to admire a crystal in his hand. "When I go back, I can ask Aunt Sarah the right words, and I can come back and save you and-"

"Thomas Gareth Williams," she reprimanded sternly. The boy fell silent. Jareth continued to pretend to examine the crystal with interest.

Thomas stood still because she never used his full name even when she was angry at him for something stupid he said or did. She held his shoulders, and she gently squeezed them to have him look her in the eye. Her stern expression softened. She looked like Aunt Sarah for a moment with that warm smile on her pink lips. She reminded him vaguely of his dream from that morning – of a dark haired angel in the Jones' kitchen with a halo of morning sunlight. "Mom probably won't remember me. It'll be like I didn't even exist… and how would you be able to get back here? Wish yourself away to _him?_ That's just silly."

"But-"

"You made a choice… and you are going to have to live with it. As am I."

"What if… I take your place? Would he allow that?"

"_I_ won't allow it." The sternness crept back into her voice. Then she softened again as she teased him ever so gently. "He doesn't need another Little Goblin like you anyway."

Jareth waved the crystal away. Her words had piqued his interest again. A thin eyebrow rose as he assessed the young woman. Once again, he was struck by how different and similar events were playing out between him and the Williams children. He felt almost like a voyeur watching events play out without him. Sarah's daughter spoke the truth, and unlike her mother, she was resigned to her fate. She didn't seem to fight the consequences of her cousin's actions, which he found a tad unbelievable. Was this girl Sarah's daughter or not? Where was the stubborn fire? Why was she so resigned to her fate of being his… forever?

Comparatively, Toby's son was adamant about saving her. Stubbornly, he kept trying to find a way to circumvent the inevitable and to atone for his words. But the child had meant them. He had unleashed his anger and pain and he had truly believed. Otherwise, the pair would not be here with him. Thomas's words had carried weight, and even if Charlotte was not the reason for his anger, she shouldered it admirably.

"You would, wouldn't you?" the boy's question drew Jareth back to the present. Thomas stared at him, and the girl turned around to partially look at the Goblin King. Her eyes were somber, hurt, and a tad hopeful. Jareth realized Thomas finally had the wherewithal to ask the one person who had the power to resolve the situation. In that moment, he made a decision.

"I won't," the Goblin King drawled. "There _are_ rules not of my making at play here. Only the one wished away can become a goblin. The wisher cannot take their place."

"But you're the King! You rule here! You make the rules!" protested Thomas. He thought a moment, back to the little red book and what he had managed to read. "I-I could be your heir, right? You don't really _need_ Charlie!"

Jareth let a lazy grin of pointed canines and smugness come to life on his face. "How presumptuous of you, young man. I _do_ rule here. I _do_ require an heir… but why would I want such a spoiled, angry child such as yourself? Miss Jones would also be a fine-" He paused for effect and his eyes flickered to the young woman's figure. "Addition to my household as well."

The boy's shoulders fell. He failed to see a blush creep over Charlotte's cheeks, but Jareth didn't. She did look rather like her mother at that moment. The long hair hanging loose except it was a reddish brown and not raven black; lips the color of blush and not crimson roses. Her green eyes weren't so deep or clear. They appeared more olive than true green. He vaguely wondered if she had her mother's tastes for men. Apparently not by the way she suddenly glared at him. Anger. Jareth understood anger, and the emotion made him smile even more. Jareth barely heard the boy's next words as he remembered another time and place with a beautiful girl on the cusp of womanhood who had turned her childish anger on him.

"Can't you just… let her go?"

"I can, but I won't. Why should I?" he asked conjuring a crystal ball again. The Goblin King began to manipulate it nonchalantly over his hand as he gazed into it. "Simply because you regret your actions?" He paused with the crystal poised on his finger. Jareth added a tone of desperation to this voice to mock the boy. "Why, you didn't even say _please_."

"Please, won't you let her go?" the boy amended. He had to talk louder in order to be heard over the titter of goblins. Jareth chuckled at the boy's feeble attempts to garner sympathy from him. As if a _please_ had ever worked on the Goblin King… Jareth liked the sparkle of hope in the boy's eyes. His desperation would be useful if the Goblin King chose to exploit it. As he settled back on his throne, the tickle of a possible plan began to fall into place with another piece. Jareth's gaze drifted from Thomas to Charlie. While Thomas was an open book of emotion, the young woman kept her emotions restrained… except for that moment of anger. She, too, held onto a small shred of hope. She, too, would be useful in this fomenting plan of his. There had to be more this girl than her maternal side and resignation at her fate.

"Just because you are Toby's son and you are Sarah's daughter," he began. Back and forth, he let the crystal trail magically over his hand. Clarity gave way to opacity as something remembered came to the surface. Jareth couldn't help but smirk in triumph as he said, "No."

Their disappointment was palatable. The goblins picked up on the wave of emotion and began their titter of laughter again. They would have a new comrade soon. It had been ages since they had had a human turned goblin join their ranks. Jareth watched a memory bubble up and come to life in the crystal. His hand stopped as he turned the crystal first one way and then another to admire the memory of Toby bouncing on his lap. Goblins sang and danced around them. Even he looked pleased as he sang and danced with the toddler in his hands.

"Did you know that I wanted to make your father my heir?" he asked conversationally. Two pairs of eyes grew wide. "Ah, apparently not."

"Why not make Charlie your heir? She's too pretty to be a goblin." Charlotte's hand flew to cover his mouth, but she was too late. "Plus she's smart and caring."

"I offered her the world – a place at my side as consort, me as a slave at her feet. I moved the stars for her and stopped time itself. I dressed her in gossamer starlight and danced with her alone. In the end, I offered her my love for I truly loved her… and she denied me without a thought. She rejected me… thinking it was all part of my game in order to save her precious little brother," the Goblin King mused as he pretended to ignore Thomas's offer. He gave a dramatic sigh for emphasis. He watched the memory of Sarah in her white dress dancing in his arms in the crystal ball. The bittersweet memory lasted but for a moment. "She would have made for a beautiful Queen."

With a twist of his wrist, the crystal disappeared. Jareth turned his attention to the astonished face of Sarah's daughter. She seemed genuinely surprised and flustered at his honest confession. He found it amusing and reminiscent.

"Oh? Did your mother leave out that part?" he asked before chuckling at her meager nod and face growing pink in embarrassment. _Even prettier,_he mused to himself.

"She also must have told you that it was love at first sight when she met your father?" Jareth hedged.

"Nobody falls in love at first sight. That's only in fairy tales. Love takes understanding and openness and admiration," Charlie argued. She also refused to answer his question directly. He would have to find out the truth later.

"And how would you know what love is?" he asked casually. Her pink cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and she looked away. _Ah, less naïve than her mother at this age… but obviously still a young woman,_he mused. Her brown hair fell over her shoulder and she had returned to petting the boy's head. She seemed to be fighting with herself over this change in her mother's story. Or so he thought.

"What if-" began the young boy, but his cousin was faster this time.

"Don't you dare ask him! You've done enough." Her green eyes went wide with fear, and Jareth admired the contrast of flushed cheeks, pink lips, pale skin, and dark hair. Thomas pulled her hand away and glared at his cousin. Yet her words didn't stop the boy.

"But he could, couldn't he?! You would have power here! And you wouldn't be a goblin either! And I've seen the pictures of Aunt Sarah at your age! You're prettier than her!"

Jareth barked another laugh that kept Charlie's retort on the tip of her tongue. "Not only do you banish your cousin to me, you presume to make her my consort?"

"The Goblin King loved the girl, right?" countered Thomas. He watched the Goblin King sober then glower at him. The boy lifted his chin defiantly. "Charlie is just like Aunt Sarah. Probably even better. It's hard not to love her."

"Thomas, it's not like," Charlotte began, but a wave of the Goblin King's hand cut her off.

"No one is like Sarah, and I doubt a child truly knows what love is," Jareth bit out angrily. He scoffed and settled back on his throne with an imperious air. "Perhaps I should make you a Little Goblin for your ill-mannered behavior for the next twelve hours."

A chorus of laughter and cries of mercy from the goblins filled the throne room. The Goblin King raised a finger and flicked it forward. A tall goblin obediently emerged from the shadows behind the throne. He seemed different from the bouncing and boisterous goblins in the throne room. The tall goblin bowed low in a stately manner and waited patiently for his king to speak.

"I tire of these two. Since he refuses to run the Labyrinth, take the boy to the dungeons to wait out his trial. Use one of the smaller cells for our temporary guest," he stated looking a frightened but stubborn Thomas square in the eye. A knot of goblin guards began to approach. His gaze fell upon Charlie and he smirked. She cowered ever so slightly, but her arms tightened around her cousin. Even if he received word that this plan violated the rules, it would still serve to amuse him.

"Lock the girl in the highest tower, and see that she is made comfortable for the time being. Have someone loyal to me guard the tower door until the thirteen hours are up. I have matters elsewhere to attend to before I speak to her again about her new life here in my kingdom."

"So it shall be done, Your Majesty," the goblin intoned with a bow to his sovereign. Already the obedient goblin guards were prying the two mortals apart. Their protests rang out in the throne room and nearly drowned out the goblins of the court. The Goblin King hid his frown behind his gloved hand as the two were ignominiously dragged out of his throne room in opposite directions.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 9. AboveGround**

A car door slammed. A back kitchen door was opened. Two dripping figures stumbled into the dark kitchen. Somewhere in the house, a clock quietly chimed a quarter after nine. The house was still. There was silence everywhere, a heavy, oppressive silence when there shouldn't be any.

"We're too late…" Sarah stated quietly. Something had driven her home, away from her brother's bedside. Deep inside, she had felt a tug, a pull, a _something_, a unexplainable feeling accompanied by fear for her one and only child. Sarah urged Brian to leave the hospital with her (Toby had been sedated and wouldn't wake until morning), but when they had arrived, she knew they were too late.

Sarah rushed down the hall and took the stairs two at a time. She threw up open Charlie's bedroom and the office that was Thomas' temporary room. She found empty beds and silence. Sarah swallowed the lump of fear that grew at the back of her throat. The sinking feeling of hopelessness gripped her.

"They aren't down here either," Brian said quietly as he met her at the base of the stairs. "Where did they go? The doors were locked. Charlie can't drive yet…"

Numb, Sarah didn't notice that the power had flickered back on. The television came to life with a black screen and the laugh track of a sitcom blaring through the speakers. Sarah's eyes alighted on something on the carpet in the living room. Kneeling, she ran her hand over the carpet and lifting her fingers, she saw tiny sparkles. Running her thumb over the glittery pieces, they vanished into nothing. The hair on the back of her arms stood up, and somehow… she knew.

"He was here…" she breathed.

"Who was here?" Brian asked from behind her. "Sarah, we need to call the police. I keep calling Charlie's cell phone and I get nothing."

Sarah ignored her husband for a moment. His panic would not help. Quickly, she rushed to the hallway where a large mirror hung among the family pictures. There was no time to explain to Brian what had happened. He wouldn't believe her story anyway. That the bedtime fairy tale she had told Charlie as a child was true? That the little red book tucked behind the books in the bookcase had come true one fateful night? That her brother Toby had been whisked away by the goblins and that she had faced down the Goblin King? Brian wouldn't believe her. Sarah bit her lower lip. She hadn't done this in years. Would he still be there? Would it work?

"Hoggle? I have need of you, Hoggle!" she called out in front of the hallway mirror. Nothing happened for a moment.

"Sarah, what are you doing? This isn't the time for"

Brian's words were cut off. However, Sarah didn't look away. The mirror had shifted, moved like the ripples of a limpid pool from a single drop of water. The magic had worked. Hoggle's image slowly came into view with each ripple.

"Hoggle? Is that you?" Sarah asked fearfully.

"Sarah?" came the hesitant response from the old dwarf. He looked older, more wrinkled than before with whiter hair. His blue eyes, however, were still clear, and his voice was still strong. Sarah felt slightly better seeing her old friend. "You… you called?! I thought you had forgotten about me. I don't blame you if you had."

"I could never forget you Hoggle…" Sarah stated warmly. "I simply… grew up, and I started a family of my own." She paused, guilt washing over her. "I should have called you more often to say hello. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Nothin' for it. I understand. That I do," he replied gruffly.

"Hoggle, I don't have much time to talk," Sarah began in a rush before Hoggle could say more deprecating things about himself. "Do you know what happened to Charlotte?"

"Charlotte? Who's Charlotte?"

Sarah wanted to slap her forehead for her idiocy. Of course, Hoggle wouldn't know who Charlotte was.

"Charlotte is my daughter," she stated quickly. "She looks a bit like me, but she acts more like her father, and I think…" She paused and swallowed the fear that caught at the back of her throat. "I think the Goblin King took her."

"Jareth? That jerk?" asked the dwarf with an air of indignation. "Why would he ever do such a thing?"

"I don't know," Sarah responded feebly. "I think he has my nephew Thomas as well. Something happened here and I can feel the magic, _his _magic, like that night."

Hoggle paused and looked thoughtful before looking back at Sarah. "What makes you think they are here? Maybe they ran off? Y'know how kids are."

"I do, but…" Sarah worried her lower lip. "Just… Please. Hoggle. For me. If they are there, please help them." The mirror rippled again and Sarah gasped. "Hoggle!"

Before he could respond, his image disappeared. Sarah cursed and slammed the palm of her hand against the wall by the contemporary mirror. _It's alright_, she told herself. _I told Hoggle. He knows now. If he runs into them in the Labyrinth, he can help them like he helped me. Hoggle will help them. I know he will. _Sarah glanced at her frozen husband in the warm light from the living room backlighting him. She had no other choice. Sarah decided to do the unthinkable. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the foyer and planted her feet.

"I call upon Jareth, the King of the Goblins, to appear before me," she commanded confidently towards the front door.

"Sarah? What are you doing?" asked her husband from the living room. He raised an eyebrow at his wife, and she looked at him over her shoulder. _He probably thinks I'm crazy now_, she thought to herself. _Maybe I am._ With a sigh and a shudder, she took his hand. He led her into the kitchen, talking in his calm voice. However, there was a hint of a tremor to his normally soothing tone. "C'mon. We'll call Charlie's friends and then we'll call the police."

"You're right," Sarah agreed with a nod of her head. Her heart began to sank. Perhaps the glitter had been her imagination. That sinking feeling, that tug of magic from afar, that pull of her only child being taken from this world to another. Perhaps she hadn't seen Hoggle in the mirror. Perhaps the Goblin King hadn't whisked her daughter and nephew away, and they had been kidnapped by a serial killer. A part of her wished the latter wasn't true. The gruesome reality was too much to bear. Sarah and Brian set about making phone calls. An hour later, they were waiting for the patrol car to pull up outside their front door. Sarah cradled a mug of lukewarm tea in her hands. Brian held his head in his hands.

"I wish..." Sarah began but she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Making wishes again, Sarah Williams?" the familiar voice said dripping acid. "Or should I say Mrs. Sarah Jones."

She nearly knocked over her chair standing up so fast. The Champion and the Goblin King stared at each other for a long time across the kitchen. Sarah noticed how he hadn't changed. The same wild hair, the same extravagant make-up (or not make-up, she never knew for sure), the same tight clothing that left nothing to the imagination. He still looked out of place in the modern, mortal world, and yet he looked perfect as he was. As he leaned against her kitchen counters in her kitchen, the Goblin King looked unreal. He was still her childish fantasy of mysterious masculinity and male sensuality. He was the antithesis of her solid and supportive husband. He had crossed his arms and gave off that air of nonchalance he always had.

As she was assessing him, Jareth took the moment of surprise to gauge Sarah Jones nee Williams. He noted the few strands of gray hair creeping into her raven hair at her hairline, the crow's feet and minute wrinkles from smiling and laughing across her fair face. She was past her prime, but he could see how beautiful she had once been. Time had been forgiving to her. As she stepped into her mature years gracefully, he envied the man she called husband. Jareth tried not to look at the man who sat at the table, frozen by magic once again. Envy and hate warred within the Goblin King, but he had no time for it. The pressing matter of a presumptuous boy and a mediocre young woman lay between the pair.

"You called me and so I have come," he stated calmly without a smile. "If I had known it was to simply stare at me…"

"You were staring, too," Sarah retorted with a subtle lifting of her chin in defiance. Sarah lifted her chin. She paused and seemed to consider him again. "You look well. You haven't aged a day."

"Flattery will take you far with me, precious," he stated with a predatory grin. "But I am a tad busy at the moment. Why did you call upon me?"

Sarah came to a conclusion then, and so she cut to the quick of the matter. "You have my daughter and nephew. Return them to me at once."

"You know as well as I that I cannot simply return them," Jareth replied with a hint of irritation. "If I could, I bloody well would, but your dear nephew wished your daughter away to me."

He watched Sarah's face blanch and her stance change to an offensive one. She hadn't anticipated that scenario. She had assumed that the Goblin King had whisked away her offspring and nephew out of some age old malicious intent. Jareth smiled as he twisted his hand and an apple appeared. He began to polish its red surface on his sleeve. "They have a scant eleven hours left to save themselves."

"You have no power over me," Sarah stated by rote, which made Jareth snort in amusement. "Surely that extends to my family as well."

"As a matter of fact," he began and then paused to look at the apple. He met her gaze again. "It does not. It applies to only you, my cruel and precious Sarah."

Jareth lifted the apple to take a bite, but his gaze fell on Sarah's hand on her husband's shoulder. She had sought out an ounce of comfort from the man… even if he could do nothing. But a thought nagged at the Goblin King. He tilted his head, and as curious as a cat, the apple vanished as he stepped forward to examine the man further. Sarah stiffened and placed herself between him and her husband. Jareth openly glared at Sarah.

"I will not hurt him," Jareth said flatly. With a snap of his fingers, the beard on Brian disappeared. There were lines on the man's face that had never been there before. His hair had lightened and changed with time. Yet Jareth would recognize him anywhere. His mismatched eyes grew wide, and his voice lost some of its haughtiness. He called Sarah's husband by his true name to break the hold on this man. "Finn Mac Cumhail."

The words held magic in them. Sarah glanced at her husband to see him shudder and move. The magic in the house flexed and accommodated the third person in this moment of stopped time. Brian blinked once and looked from Sarah to Jareth and back again.

"Sarah…" Brian said pronouncing the two syllables of her name slowly. He pointed at Jareth. "Why is the Goblin King standing in our kitchen?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Life's Little Lessons: Chapter 10. Kitchen**

"Why are you mortal, brother?" the Goblin King responded a tad annoyed. Jareth's gaze burned into the other man. For a moment, Sarah stood breathless. She looked from her husband to the Goblin King. Brian smiled at Jareth who scowled in return. The boys seemed to ignore Sarah for the moment.

"I am mortal because I fell in love with one," stated her husband frankly. He went to rub his bearded chin thoughtfully, but his clean shaven face startled him. "You took away my beard?"

"You fell in love with _my _Sarah," growled out Jareth.

"I did indeed," her husband responded with a smile. He looked so much younger without his beard, Sarah realized suddenly. Brian turned to his shocked wife before turning his hazel eyes back on Jareth. "And she isn't _your_ Sarah anymore. She never was _yours_ to begin with."

The two men glared at each other for moment – Brian to Sarah and Finnegan to the Goblin King with a smile plastered on his lips and a challenge in his eye while Jareth scowled at such brashness and amicable behavior.

"You're… his brother?" asked Sarah cautiously to break the growing tension in her kitchen. Her husband nodded and turned to look at her surprised.

"Thank the Goddess, no, we are not kin," Brian explained quickly. "It is merely a greeting, but we…" He paused to look at Jareth. "We were close once. Almost like brothers." Jareth's eyes became slits as he stared the man down. Brian / Finnegan shrugged it off like he always did. He turned back to his wife. "It's a long and complicated story for another time."

"You never mentioned this," Sarah began and both men saw the anger bubbling to the surface. "You… You introduced yourself as Brian. Not as Finn or Finnegan or… or… You told me you had no family, and yet… you somehow _know_ the Goblin King?!"

"Which is partly true," he said and continued heading off his wife's anger. "I am Finn Mac Cumhail. I lived a long time ago and had many great adventures. My family died centuries ago, and somehow I slipped into the Fae realm. I lived there and found a new family, but one day, I chose to explore the mortal realm again. Then I happened to meet you and everything changed. I chose to give that life up. Father stripped me of my immortality and told me to never contact any of the Sidhe again. Including the Goblin King. I was no longer welcome under Father's roof or among any of the Sidhe. It was like my life there had never happened. I was mortal again. Ergo, I had no family… until I married you and we had Charlie."

His simple words seemed to take the wind out of Sarah's sails. She smiled at her husband then. He had gotten out of the frying pan… but Jareth wondered if Finn had truly used his silver tongue to get out of this situation unscathed. "When this is over…"

"Father told me you left our world for a mortal of surpassing beauty," Jareth interrupted Sarah. "If I had known-"

"You would have tried to dissuade me? You locked yourself away from us, licking your wounds and feeling sorry for yourself like you always do," he admonished. Sarah loved her husband a little more for standing up to Jareth in this way. "And what could you have done? I went AboveGround to see how the world had changed, and I met a beautiful woman by chance. How was I supposed to know that _my_ Sarah was _your_ Sarah? It was simply happenstance."

"Nothing happens without a reason in this world, Finn. You know that or did Father make you forget that as well?"

A glare crept onto Brian's features again. The Goblin King smiled wickedly then and Sarah blanched. She touched her husband's shoulder, and he turned to look at her.

"Love, he has Charlie and Thomas," she said quietly. She needed the conversation to turn back to the true matter of concern for them – their daughter. Their only daughter and her brother's son were in the clutches of the Goblin King.

"Charlie wouldn't," Brian began with fear creeping up his spine.

"But Thomas would… and did," Jareth interjected. "He wished your daughter away to me."

The statement silenced the pair before Brian groaned and ran a hand over his face. Sarah wanted to do the same, but they needed information from Jareth. They needed to find a way to sway the Goblin King to give them _both _up.

"He's simply a hurt child. We can't blame him," Sarah said quietly to her husband who had grown both angry and fearful. He clenched his mighty fist as he glared at the smug Goblin King. His wife's gentle hand on his arm did little to calm him. He moved away from the pair nonchalantly. It galled him to see the pair – his favorite adopted brother and his previous love. His hair had lost its fire and his eyes had tarnished, but Jareth would recognize the warrior even in this mortal state anywhere. At least the man's heavy brogue hadn't returned when Jareth called him by his true name. It had taken him months to understand Finn's guttural voice. "He must've found the book somehow because I've never told him the story, have you?"

"Of course not!" There was a pause. "Where did you hide it?"

"Behind my books in the bookcase in my office."

"Sarah…" Silence was her response to her husband's tone of voice. Jareth had returned to leaning up against the counter top but he examined his gloves nonchalantly. He could wait for the lovers' tiff to end.

"What do you want in return for them, Goblin King?" Brian asked in a split decision to drop his reprimand of his wife's negligence. "We have little, but… we would gladly give you anything for their safe return."

Jareth noticed Sarah sweep her dark hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. The determination that had carried her through the Labyrinth shone on her face. That same determination was matched by Finn's confidant stance. The Goblin King looked away from the pair to stare down the hallway towards the front door. A pair of tennis shoes lay haphazardly beside a pair of colorful flats placed neatly side by side. Pictures of the happy family lined the dim hallway as well. He clenched his fists. Finnegan had this… with his Sarah. Could he – no, would he have made such a sacrifice of himself for Sarah? To have this short but happy life with her? Honestly, he didn't know. He let the silence drag out as his thoughts tumbled and then righted.

"I am bound by the laws of the Labyrinth," Jareth sighed and he turned to look at them with sadness in his features. Even with all of his power at his disposal, he felt powerless. "If it were in my power to break this contract, for the love that I once bore for both of you, I would… but I cannot." He watched their shoulders sag and he took no joy in sealing their forthcoming fates. For once, Jareth felt his heart soften. He wanted to give them the truth instead of half-truths and little lies teased out of nothing. His gaze drifted to a spot on the tile floor where a blackened match lay.

"Thomas refused to run the Labyrinth to save your daughter. He has forfeited his right to save her; in doing so, he forfeited the right of anyone else running in his place. Therefore, young Charlotte is mine to do with as I please when the thirteen hours are up."

Silence crept in-between them. Jareth felt the heavy mantle of villain fall back onto his shoulders. Here he stood in the kitchen of two "heroes." How would they react to him simply "following the rules?" Yet the role had always been thrust upon him. He had always followed the rules of the Labyrinth. He had no other choice in the matter.

"Please, Jareth. Don't do this," Sarah begged in a near whisper. He flinched at how close it sounded, and he suppressed a second at the touch of her hand on his forearm. The aged hand was warm and tender. She had never touched or begged him before. It made him immediately uneasy. He met her gaze and he felt his heart race staring into those emerald green eyes once again. "Let one of us run the Labyrinth for Thomas. He's a child. He didn't understand."

"Just like how you didn't understand? You were a child once as well if I recall," Jareth countered automatically. He regretted his biting tongue the minute he said the words. She pulled away as if he had slapped her hand. The Goblin King forced himself to look away. "I refuse to make concessions for your family."

"They are part of your family, too," retorted Finn.

"Rules are rules." Jareth braced himself for the inevitable.

"When have you ever let the rules dictate your actions, Jareth?" exploded Finn. "Where is the Goblin King I remember? The one who traveled the kingdoms of Man and Fae for adventure? Who had no fear as he fought trolls at the southern border? Who danced with dragons and sang sweeter than Orpheus? Who wrapped nymphs and naiads around his little finger? Who protected goblins and laughed with them in the face of danger? You broke every one of Father's rules and you still ended up a King of a realm."

He closed his eyes and sighed before speaking. "A king of goblins and a Labyrinth forgotten, a guardian to watch a gate to the mortal realm, a noble Sidhe reprimanded for letting a mortal girl best him at both his game and his heart. You know better than anyone that our brethren and sisters do not take kindly to mortals or the concept of love."

His excuse sounded flat even to his own ears. He felt old in explaining the matter so plainly to Finn and Sarah. The kitchen fell silent again, but Jareth forced himself to continue.

"I've changed, Finn, but my duties have not. My kingdom, my people, my goblins… I cannot fail them again. Just as you have a duty to your wife and child." Jareth paused to run a hand through his hair in irritation. "I cannot let my feelings dictate the consequences here, not again… Not after last time."

"Or it will be my head on a platter presented to Father, the King of the Sidhe," Finn finished for him. Jareth nodded solemnly.

"Could we… Can we petition this King of the Sidhe for our daughter's release?" Sarah asked uncertainly. Both Finn and Jareth raised their heads to gape at her. Then they looked at each other.

"Father would not receive you," Jareth explained. He held up a hand and began to tick off the reasons. "You are mortal. You are not of royal standing. You are aware of magic, but you do not wield it. Ergo, you have no power."

"Also, you are married to an ex-communicated brethren of the realm," her husband added. "While I was once loved, I cannot return to plead for our daughter's cause.. and I refuse to let you go to the UnderGround without me."

"We have to do something, Brian!" Sarah said desperately. "We can't just leave her to such a fate!"

"It's not _all_ bad," Jareth began without thinking. The ice cold glare from Sarah made him shudder with fear. He composed himself again and pushed away from the kitchen counter. The Goblin King lifted his chin and tried to regain some of his royal bearing. "I will do what I can to make your daughter comfortable in my realm. I will see that young Thomas is returned unharmed. For now, that is all I can offer to you both."

"Please, Jareth," Sarah begged again. The Goblin King watched as the Celtic Hero's hand found that of his wife's. The Champion's hand fit neatly into the strong, worn hand of her husband.

"That is all I can do for now," Jareth amended. He couldn't look them in the eye as he began to disappear from their kitchen. Through the shimmer of magic, he saw the tears streaming down Sarah's cheek before Brian pulled her into a comforting embrace. Something ached in his chest again, a sweet bitterness at what he once had and had lost. His mind drifted back to the thought of what their life would have been if Sarah had chosen him over her familial duty, if Sarah had truly loved him, if Sarah had stayed with him forever.

[**A/N:** Sarah: "Legendary Irish hero, eh?" (angry look)

Brian: "And leader of the Fianna."

Sarah: (frustrated sigh) "Is your name Finn or Brian?"

Brian: (hugs Sarah) "You can call me whatever name you want, my love, as long as you call me your husband." END SCENE.

Author: Score 1 for him. To quote Encyclopedia Mythica, "no man could hope to be better in magic, poetry, or wisdom then Finn Mac Cumhail" ( articles/f/finn_mac_ ). It seemed rather apropos for an adult Sarah to fall for Finn.]


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:All references to the characters Jareth, Sarah, Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and the film _Labyrinth_ belong to Jim Henson Studios and other pertinent parties. I do not claim ownership to the characters and / or the original source material.

**Chapter 11. Imprisoned**

_Clank, clank,_ step, step. _Clank, clank,_ step, step. The sound of her goblin guards' footsteps gave the winding climb a percussive rhythm. Up and up, they climbed. Charlie's stocking feet made no sound on the flagstones. She glanced out of the medieval slits on the exterior of the tower to her right. She couldn't see much, however. The window slits were at what appeared to be average goblin height. They had passed a handful of doors – some ornate and some more utilitarian. Finally another turn revealed a small landing and a heavy looking door. A small figure stood in front of it with a ring laden with keys of various sizes and shapes. Charlie's eyes grew wide.

"Sir Didymus?" she asked quietly.

"My lady?" the diminutive furry figure asked in response. He tilted his head to the side and raised his white eyebrows. Clad in a long-sleeved doublet of black with blue and silver-slashed sleeves, the old knight still bore an air of aged honor. More white had crept into his whiskers along his muzzle and chin. He had also lost some of the ruddy color that Charlie had imagined as a child; Didymus appeared more light orange than red like a fox. Yet he still wore the blue hat with a feather of yellow and a black eye patch over his left eye. He blinked his good eye a few times and rubbed at an ear as if to see and hear better before looking up at Charlie."My Lady Sarah? Is that you or does my eye deceive me?"

"Sarah is my mother," Charlie said with a smile in her voice. "My name is Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie."

"Enough talk!" squeaked one of the goblins. He poked at Charlie with a spear. "In the room! In you go!"

"Now see here!" protested Sir Didymus. He threatened the goblin with his short staff. "That is no way to treat a lady!"

"Ain't no lady. She prisoner," argued the other goblin who seemed unafraid of the old, diminutive knight.

"One should still accord all gentle women with proper dignity and respect," harrumphed Didymus. He lost some of the wind in his sails as he amended his line. "…. even if they are prisoners."

"Open da door a'ready," grumbled the goblin with a scowl. Sir Didymus bristled but still did as he was commanded. With his back turned, Didymus failed to see the goblin give Charlie another good poke with his spear. She bit her tongue and glared down at the goblin guard as the sound of the lock turning bounced off the stones around the tower landing. Sir Didymus turned the knob and swung the door inward to reveal her prison cell. Before Charlies could assess the room, the goblin guards forced her into the room.

"In you go! In! In! Kingy says you stay here!"

"Until you are one of us!"

"I'm truly sorry for this, my lady," Sir Didymus said as Charlie walked by him into the room. She could barely here him over the goblins cackling and discussing how pretty she would be as a goblin. Charlie turned and looked pleadingly at Sir Didymus.

"Then help me, Sir Didymus," Charlie begged. "Please. For the love you bear my mother, let me out of here so I can help my cousin and beat the Labyrinth."

"Your cousin?"

"'Ere now! No talk! Just stand guard!" growled one of the goblin guards. He attempted to poke Sir Didymus with his spear, but the old fox terrier still had some growl and bite left in him.

"Do you know who I am?! How dare you accost my person! Have at thee!" he shouted wildly. The goblin guard blanched, dropped his spear, and started to rush down the stairs.

Charlie took a step forward, realizing that she had an opportunity for escape… until the other goblin guard smiled and closed the door with a loud thud. The key turned in the lock and that was it. She was a prisoner of the Goblin King.

Sinking into a crouch, she realized how surreal the past few hours had been. Slowly her gaze drifted from the clearly absent door handle to the black and silver hinges. Sandy grey stone encased her. Dried rushes and what had been sweet smelling herbs covered the wood floor. There was nothing in the room – no furniture, no crates or boxes, nothing. Overhead ancient beams crisscrossed to support the shingled roof. Here and there she saw where a shingle had been ripped away during a storm. The holes seemed to correspond with the bird droppings on the floor.

Rubbing her arms for warmth, Charlie rose to her feet. The thin window slits now alternated with larger, shuttered windows. Her hand trembled slightly. Heights were not her cup of tea. With an in-take of breath, she willed herself to open the shuttered window and look outside. Charlie's eyes went wide, and vertigo gripped her. Slamming the shuttered window shut, she closed her eyes tight and stepped away with her heart racing. Instinctively, she kept taking steps backward until something bumped into her backside. Her hands steadied her as she leaned against what felt like a crate covered by a rug.

"Why did it have to be the room in the highest tower?" she breathed with a sigh. Turning away from the windows, she opened her eyes to examine what she was using for support. Charlie could've sworn there had been nothing in the room when she had arrived. To her surprise, she hadn't found a crate covered by a rug; it was an old, high back chair in a worn and fraying tapestry fabric. In the chair lay a simple gown of pale peach with matching slippers. Beneath the gown, a green woolen blanket peered up at her. A small table rested beside the chair with a plate of food and a leather bound book. The scent of fresh lavender crept into her nose.

"My lady?" came the faint whisper through the door. Charlie's attention immediately turned to it, and she tripped over her own two feet to get to the door.

"Sir Didymus!" she said happily. "You returned!"

"Of course, my lady Charlotte!" he stated proudly through the door. The pride in his voice slowly slipped away as he spoke. "But alas, I cannot release you. I am a loyal servant to the King now, and I… I cannot cross His Majesty again."

"I understand, Sir Didymus," she replied. "I supposed I shouldn't have asked you to commit treason. I'm sorry."

"Believe me, for the love and respect I bear your mother, I would if I could!" he proclaimed. "Ladies are not to be locked in towers!"

"It's better than an oubliette," Charlie pointed out. She opted to change the conversation to more important matters. "Sir Didymus, my cousin is in dire need of your help. More than me."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes, my cousin Thomas. He is young, and he didn't know any better. He wished me away to the Goblin King, and he refused to run the Labyrinth to save me."

"How unchivalrous of him!"

Please, Sir Didymus," Charlie pleaded through the door. Then an idea struck her. "He needs a mentor, a guiding hand." She paused for effect to let the words sink in for Sir Didymus. "He could be a great knight some day… if someone would simply show him the way."

"Surely, my lady! Young minds need to be molded! Mentored! Why, when I was a lad…"

Charlie rested her head on the door as she listened to Sir Didymus' wild tale of his exploits in his younger days. She hoped the old fox-terrier knight understood. Blinking a few times, she silently let a tear fall before laughing at Sir Didymus' story.

* * *

_Clank, clank,_ step, step. _Clank, clank,_ step, step. The sound of his goblin guards' footsteps gave the downward climb a percussive rhythm. Down and down they went. Thomas tugged at the rope binding his wrists. He didn't really pay attention to where they were taking him. The air had grown damp and cold after the metal door. It smelled dank and bad and Thomas didn't like it. The group came to a stop in front of an iron door. In the fire light from the torch overhead, Thomas could see the pile of straw in the corner and a bucket in the other. There was silence in the dungeons.

One goblin began to untie his wrists while another unlocked the cell door. The biggest goblin pushed Thomas into the room and the boy slipped on the damp floor. He caught himself just as the door clanged shut.

"Let me out!" he shouted, turning and throwing himself at the metal threshold. "This isn't fair! Let me out!"

"Nothin's fair," muttered one of the goblins. A second scowled at Thomas.

"You stay until time is up. Then you leave," a third goblin explained. "Be quiet or we make you quiet."

Thomas ignored the threat and tried to grab for the keys. The goblin guard easily side-stepped his feeble attempt to rob him. Then they all laughed at him. The mortal boy paused and his eyes grew wide.

"No…" he breathed. "Th-th-this c-can't be real."

A goblin pinched his cheek with a clawed hand. "It be real."

Thomas grimaced in pain and rubbed at the red spot on his cheek. He fell back away from the door. The goblin laughter echoed throughout the dungeon until it ended abruptly. Thomas heard a door slam shut. Silence encroached on him. His eyes slowly adjusted to see in the dark, dank dungeon. Only faint orange lantern light lit his small cell. Three vertical shadows from the three solid iron bars in the window of his cell door stretched out before his feet. Slumping to the floor, Thomas felt like crying. Tears pricked his eyes and he sniffled.

"This isn't fair," he whined quietly. "This isn't right. I w-w-w-want Charlie. I want Aunt… Aunt S-Sarah and Uncle B-brian."

Thomas sniffled loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Why did I have to read that stupid book? Why did I say those stupid words? I… I was angry… but not at Charlie. I wasn't angry with Charlie," he admitted quietly. "It's not fair… to her."

In a corner of the cell behind him, something moved. Slowly it shifted, inch by inch, it unwound from its position. Chain links clinked like a dull crystal bell. Thomas straightened up and turned to see what had made the sound. First one opened, then closed. Then the other eye opened, blinked and the first eye opened fully. They shone in the darkness. Below the pair of yellow eyes glowing in the darkness, too white teeth gleamed from out of a predatory smile.

"Her?" it asked in a rusty voice.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._ The sharp, steady rhythm of his riding crop hitting his leather boot served as a cadence for his empty thoughts. Upon his throne, the Goblin King contemplated his next move. Jareth's brow furrowed with concentration. Indeed, his hands were tied. The boy had wished the maid away… _to him_. Of all the people to wish away a young woman to... and the child of his beloved Sarah... The boy had refused to run the Labyrinth… jareth suppressed the desire to grown aloud over the predicament. He should be callous. Unforgiving. Uncaring. Yet the memory of that long-ago love compelled him to be kind, forgiving, and caring. His hand stopped without his noticing. Jareth's glazed expression gained some clarity as he made a decision.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a crystal ball and an image of the maid in her high tower. He should have known she would be sitting amid the rushes. Leaning against the door, she appeared to be talking to Sir Didymus. A thought shifted the view to reveal that she had not even bothered to touch the gifts he had given her. Yet she was breaking, becoming resigned to her approaching fate. Rarely did Jareth have a soul bound to him. Children, yes, but an adult? Unheard-of. She sparked a curiosity in him. She was different yet so familiar in both her character and appearance. Uncertain of how to proceed with his new charge, Jareth turned his attention to the boy.

A twist of his wrist shifted the image to the strawberry-blond child. He cowered in the prison cell, afraid but slightly awed by something in the darkness. With a thought, Jareth changed the view to see what had caught the boy's attention. He could see through the darkness and identify the creature in the cell.

"Ahhh," mused Jareth rising to his feet. Grinning, he made the crystal ball vanish, and began to strip off his gloves. If the boy wanted to endanger himself by seeking out an adventure to save his cousin, the Goblin King would gladly play the villain to his young hero. It was a role he was more than familiar with.


End file.
